Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Mine	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places of Lord of the Rings/Tolkien. No money is being made. This is for personal enjoyment only.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter 14 – Harsh Realities

As he had agreed, Erestor met Lastar for an evening of entertainment. Stories were told, wine flowed, and the music was soft and sweet to everyone’s ears. With all the activities, they hadn’t had much time to talk, but Erestor was curious as to how Lastar’s evening went with Canyo.
“So, are you finally going to tell me how things went?” Erestor asked as they walked along the cobbled path that wound through the city.
Lastar gave a crooked smile. “I suppose you are inquiring about my dinner with Canyo.”
“Of course I am. What else would I be asking about?”
Lastar’s brow rose as he thought about what to say. “If you must know, we had a splendid time. We met precisely at the beginning of the evening meal. Our tastes are quite compatible too. We both preferred the venison over the wild boar.”
Erestor smiled inwardly. It seemed his plan to match Lastar with someone had worked. “Then you’ll see each other again I presume.”
“I don’t know. He seems so young.”
“You are young,” Erestor chortled.
Lastar’s demeanor changed suddenly to a more somber disposition. “I’m not as young as I once was.”
Sometimes Lastar confused Erestor. He could change so quickly from the innocent apprentice he’d once been to a much older soul. He hadn’t escaped Dol Guldur unscathed, and Erestor began to feel guilty because of it.
They walked along in silence for a while until they came to one of the many bridges that connected the different buildings. Erestor stopped and gazed out over the valley. He felt the ghostly tendrils of his absent lover, a hand at his waist, warm lips upon his neck; this place had many memories for him. Often he and Glorfindel found themselves standing on that very bridge, admiring the moon or the stars, but most of all, relishing each other.
Lastar had taken a few steps ahead and stopped when he realized Erestor was not beside him. He turned to see the counselor deep in waking dreams, and returned to him. He mimicked Erestor, hands grasping the railing and eyes peering out over the darkness below.
“How will I find the strength to give up something that has found its way to my immortal soul?” Erestor asked aloud.
“You find something else to replace the void. You live for yourself, not for anyone else,” Lastar answered.
“That seems such a selfish notion.”
“I think in this case, especially with Glorfindel, you need to be more selfish,” Lastar advised. “Has he not been the miserly one in your relationship? Has he not been devoted to his own feelings more than yours? If he loved you as you say he does, wouldn’t he have saved you from the Witch-king?”
“That is not fair,” Erestor whispered angrily. “He was captured same as I was.”
“He is Glorfindel the almighty, the Balrog slayer, the one who the Valar saved from Mandos Halls and gave back to the earth. Yet, he could not escape a simple cell. He could not scare away the Nazgûl by his mere presence. In days long passed, the Witch-king simply fled from the sight of Glorfindel, but not this time. This time he was captured easily, but why? I think he allowed himself to be captured, because he could not leave without Astarion. It is for this same reason that he has not returned to Rivendell or to you. Still, here you are, a symbol of love and hope, wishing desperately for him to manifest at your side, when you do not even see what is right in front of you.”
“It was you who said this could not be, that what Glorfindel and I had was too strong to break. Now you tell me to forget and move on, to give up any hope I have. That will leave me with nothing.”
“You have me, Erestor. I have always been there, but you have always looked past me.”
Erestor shook his head. “I cannot, Lastar. I have told you before that this cannot be.”
“And I agree that before it could not have been. But it is different this time, is it not?”
Erestor did not answer right away. Lastar was right, of course. It was different this time. Lastar was no longer under his employment. But what about Glorfindel? Should he give up so easily?
“He did not fight for you, but I have always fought,” Lastar said as though reading Erestor’s thoughts. “Whenever Glorfindel turned from you, or argued with you, whenever he made you feel it was your fault, I came to you and assured you that he was in the wrong. But I think in the deepest part of your heart, you know that to be true this time. He was wrong to choose Astarion, a ruined soul, over you. It’s something that I cannot even fathom.”
As Lastar spoke, Erestor listened. He seemed to affirm every thought, every doubt that Erestor ever had about Glorfindel. The counselor felt himself divide into two beings, the one who looked at Glorfindel through an optimistic view, and the one who saw clearly through the hazy fog. “He’d told me that he once loved Astarion, but when I asked if he still did, he could not give a straight answer. I have tried to give him time, to give him the benefit of doubt. I thought by now he would have seen the truth.”
Lastar covered Erestor’s hand and spoke carefully. “Perhaps he has and you haven’t.”
Erestor suddenly felt like he had the wind knocked from his lungs. His chest tightened and his stomach clenched as Lastar’s words penetrated his denial. So it was true. If Glorfindel could still find love for Astarion, even after knowing the creature he’d become, then he most certainly could not love Erestor, and might never have to begin with.
The strength left Erestor’s legs, and he slumped to the ground. Lastar knelt down instantly and took Erestor’s hands. “Are you alright?” Lastar said repeatedly when Erestor did not respond.
Finally, the counselor raised his eyes to meet Lastar’s. “You are right, but I cannot find the will to give up on him yet. Not until he himself tells me there is nothing left shall I be able to move on. Until then, my heart will hold out hope. I can make it do nothing else.”
* * *
Some time had passed since that evening with Lastar. Erestor’s daily routine did not change much as he kept things organized in the libraries. Meetings with Lord Elrond and the other counselors revealed a shift in the world. War was coming to Gondor. Sauron’s forces were on the move. The armies of men prepared for battle. The future was uncertain.
“Uncertain indeed,” Erestor said to himself where he sat at his desk. He glanced towards the window. The sun shone brightly while birds sang outside in the trees. It was difficult to believe that there was war anywhere in the world. It certainly hadn’t come to Rivendell, but it could if things went awry. For now, it was just another day in the elvish realm, with papers to sign and translations needed. It all made Erestor feel very helpless, but this was a war for men not elves, and especially not for a chief counselor.
The office door was slightly ajar so that Erestor could hear if anyone came into the library. Canyo hadn’t shown yet, but Erestor had a good idea why. Lastar had asked Canyo to join him for another evening together, the fifth date for them to be exact. Erestor was happy that Lastar was giving it a chance to see if they were compatible. The two young elves seemed to enjoy each other’s company, and the fact that Canyo was tardy hopefully meant that they had spent more than just a pleasant evening wining and dining. It also meant that Lastar’s feelings for Erestor might be lessening and instead, growing for Canyo.
Someone entered the library. Erestor heard their soft tread as they crossed the room and came to his office. When he knew they were just outside his door, he called for them to enter. Canyo peeked his head into the room.
“Counselor, I apologize for my unpunctuality,” Canyo said first off.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Erestor asked.
“Very much so.”
“Then you are excused,” Erestor said with a smile. He looked past Canyo to the door. “Is Lastar still here?”
Canyo blushed and looked to the ground. “He walked me to the main entrance, but he did not come in.”
Erestor smiled and thought about Lastar’s choice not to embarrass Canyo by coming into the library, especially when Erestor noticed that his assistant was still wearing the same outfit from the day before. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since last night.”
“I’ll have something brought up from the kitchens. We’ve a busy day ahead of us,” Erestor said.
They’d been working for half the day when Erestor was distracted by voices coming from the street below his office window. He stood from his desk to go and have a look, when Lastar came in unannounced.
“Have you heard yet?” Lastar asked, walking to Erestor. His voice was a mix of concern and ire.
“Have I heard what?” Erestor said. He had a feeling that whatever Lastar had to say had to do with the commotion in the street.
Lastar continued to the window and looked below. Erestor waited to see what he had to say. When he said nothing he joined the Lastar at the window. Just entering the cobbled street, at the far end, was a white horse carrying two riders, one tall and proud like a shining beacon of light, and the other hooded and dark, blindfolded and hidden from the world around him. There was no mistaking who had come back to Rivendell.
“No,” Erestor whispered in disbelief. “Tell me he has not brought the enemy into Rivendell. Why are the guards not stopping them? Who has allowed this?”
“Lord Elrond himself has given permission,” Lastar whispered in answer. “I thought you would have known.”
“I was told nothing of this,” Erestor said in disbelief. “Where is Glorfindel taking him?”
“I do not know, though I presume he’ll be held in the cells,” Lastar assumed.
Though Erestor could not deny the fact that he was glad to see Glorfindel had finally come home, he buried those feelings and focused on the other fact that Astarion was allowed into the city. Not even Lothlórien would let him pass through their borders. It was not yet known if Astarion was being influenced by dark forces. Erestor had to believe that Glorfindel would not put his home, or the lives of all who lived there, in danger.
Glorfindel directed his horse further along the road. They moved slowly, looking tired and travel worn. Erestor hoped that Glorfindel was well. It was not until the elf lord passed beneath Erestor’s window that he could see Glorfindel completely. He wore no smile, and his eyes were glazed with fatigue. He looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge anyone, bound to his mission. Erestor felt his soul reach out and call to him. ‘Please see me,’ it said. In answer, Glorfindel tilted his head up, his blue eyes catching sight of Erestor standing at his window, watching as he made his way up the street. For only a brief second, Glorfindel’s eyes lit up at the sight of the counselor, but he looked away quickly, as if he’d seen only a mirage of what he hoped was real. As he did this, another small part of Erestor’s heart broke, for he could not remember a time when Glorfindel’s spirit did not brighten upon seeing him. Even before they became involved, the elf lord seemed to revitalize when Erestor came into view. The look on his face now seemed to say that he was spent of emotions.
Lastar had seen the exchange, and he placed his hand on Erestor’s shoulder to let him know he was there. Erestor squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “I must speak to Lord Elrond,” he announced. With that, he left the office.
Lastar glanced over to Canyo, who had no idea of the importance of any of it. “Can I be of any help?” Canyo asked.
“Just stay here and continue with your duties. I will see to Erestor.” Lastar looked down from the window once more. Glorfindel had passed by, and was almost to the end of the road. Then, he spared one more glance back, and saw Lastar instead of Erestor. Disappointment was easily read on the elf lord’s face, and Lastar was selfishly glad he was there instead of Erestor.
Erestor wasted no time, and arrived at Lord Elrond’s audience chamber in record time. As chief counselor to the Lord of Imladris, he was allowed entrance without question. He found Elrond standing at his window, where he had been watching Glorfindel escort the prisoner.
Erestor skipped proper greeting and questioned Elrond. “Why, of all people, have you allowed this creature into our city?”
“Glorfindel requested this, and after careful consideration, I granted it,” Elrond answered.
“Have you no inkling of the danger you might have put us all in?”
Elrond’s brows came together in a sharp crease. “I have never known you to speak to me in such a tone, Erestor, but I find it quite disturbing. I suggest you think before continuing your inquiry.”
Erestor collected himself, aware of his anger. He straightened the collar of his robe and continued. “I apologize, my lord, but seeing Astarion within our city, on our own streets … well, I cannot help but feel that our security has been compromised.”
“We took precautions before even allowing Astarion close to Rivendell. There is no possible way he could know the secret passage. And he will not be allowed sight of anything but the inside of his cell.”
“Why?” Erestor asked. “Why allow him here at all? It is too much of a risk, don’t you think?”
“It is a risk, but one I feel that is worth taking. I know better than anyone the danger of exposure. I sense a presence not his own when I look at Astarion. However, Glorfindel has assured me that he has seen improvement in him. I received a letter from Glorfindel, asking for permission to bring Astarion here where he thinks he will be able to better care for and heal his charge, and I trust that Glorfindel will not let anything happen as long as Astarion is under his guard. You should know as well as I that he would not let harm come to Rivendell.”
“I want to believe that, my lord, but I have been a victim to the dark powers you have only sensed. They are incredibly strong. They make you think differently, make you question yourself, and make allowances for choices that you would never have taken into consideration under a sound mind. I cannot help but wonder if Glorfindel is being used by our enemies in part of a larger plan. You have your reasons, Lord Elrond, but my decision would have been not to allow Astarion anywhere near Rivendell.”
“You are entitled to your opinion, but my mind is already made in this,” Lord Elrond said sternly.
“How many elves do you know of that have been transformed back to their original selves, and of those, how many have been enslaved for as long as Astarion has? Do you not find it folly, my lord?”
“You have looked into a Seeing Stone,” Elrond explained. “You know its ability to bring ruin. Had you succumbed to the Wraiths, you would have been a key element in the destruction of elvendom as well as human kind. Yet you were able to refuse to let it control you.”
“And something still managed to latch onto me. It was Lastar who saw the darkness and expelled it. Though I was only its prisoner for a short while, I still feel the effects from time to time. This being the case, how do you expect Astarion to make a full recovery?” Erestor argued. “I cannot help but feel that this is the work of our enemy. For Eru’s sake, Elrond, not even Lothlórien would allow him to go past the furthest reaches of their borders.” He ended with a voice raised in anger.
Elrond brought himself to his full height, and his eyes narrowing on Erestor. “Every elf deserves a chance to come into the light of the stars, not to continue to live in the deepest recesses of unfathomable darkness. The fact that Astarion is still alive after all these thousands of years speaks in and of itself. If Glorfindel says there is still hope, then I believe him. Now, he has asked for our help. Living in the wilds is making treatment difficult, and in Rivendell, he has access to any kind of healing that he needs to assist him. If this is what he needs, then I am willing to take that risk to save a life.”
Erestor did not counter Elrond, but he did study his features, and found his lord to be unmoving to any more argument. “I see that nothing I can say will persuade you otherwise. I will take my leave now.”
As he left Elrond’s chambers, Erestor’s emotions strangled him. He held a certain amount of fear and hate for Astarion, fearful that he brought the enemy with him and hate for taking the love of his life from him. When he thought of Glorfindel, he felt he needed to rescue the elf lord from his own stubbornness, as he demanded that Astarion was his responsibility and no one else’s. Erestor still held out hope that Glorfindel would finally see that he could not save Astarion, and when he came to realize that, he would need Erestor’s love to deal with a second loss. He needed to keep himself available to Glorfindel, yet not overpower him with persuasion either.
“I want him to come home,” Erestor said to himself. “I want him back in my life. Without him, I don’t think I can continue.” Yet, fear kept him from following through. It was just as it was when he first became acquainted with Glorfindel. Erestor felt small compared to the enormity of the situation with Astarion. The Gondolin elf had been there first and foremost. How could Glorfindel still have a place in his heart for Erestor when it was so full of regret and reunion, of a need to put things right again. Erestor thought back to previous years, when Glorfindel approached him and asked that he join him on that fateful hunting trip. “I should never have gone,” he said despairingly. “It would have saved my heart a lot of damage.”
* * *
Over the next few weeks, Erestor was absolutely miserable. He kept hope alive as best he could, but without any contact with Glorfindel, he found it difficult to continue day to day business. Erestor had Canyo do twice the work he normally did, for the counselor had difficulty concentrating.
Mornings were the most excruciating of all. As the sun rose, Glorfindel passed by Erestor’s office window on his way to spend the day working with Astarion. Erestor made it a point to leave a single candle burning in the window, in hopes that Glorfindel might find it in his heart to stop and see him. But every day, the elf lord passed by without much notice of whose window he walked by. Erestor would hope that the next day would be different, but it never was.
Meanwhile, Lastar witnessed Erestor’s deterioration and he worried for him. If only Erestor would open his heart and his mind to something else. Then he would find Lastar waiting with open arms. It hurt him to think there was a soul longing for love and another one full of love to give away. He had asked Erestor once that if Glorfindel had not existed in the counselor’s life, would he have given Lastar a chance. To his surprise, Erestor said that it might have been, but that what was done was done. So, while Erestor held out hope for Glorfindel, Lastar held his for Erestor. It would not be enough, and when Lastar saw that Erestor was not going to come out of this destitute fog any time soon, he decided he needed to do something about it.
It was late one evening when Lastar and Canyo were walking back from an evening of wine and friendly conversation. They had both discovered that, after one night of heated passion, they had needed only release and pleasure, and that there were no romantic notions between them. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company, and continued at friends. As they walked along their path, Lastar glanced in the direction of Erestor’s house, seeing a pale light escaping through a split in the curtains. Canyo saw the look of longing flit across Lastar’s eyes, and not for the first time.
“You love him, don’t you?” Canyo said.
Lastar smiled shyly and looked to the ground. “Is it obvious?
“Only a fool could not see, and I am no fool,” Canyo chaffed. He looked off towards Erestor’s window in the distance. “Why do you not tell him?”
“I have, but he holds out hope for another,” said Lastar, defeated.
“Ah, Glorfindel,” Canyo said knowingly. “Erestor has not spoken of him to me, but I have seen the way he watches the elf lord when he passes by in the street below his office. Is it very serious between them?”
“Yes, or … well, it was, once. It is a difficult situation, and one that I’m afraid I have no place within, which is why I am no longer employed by the counselor, by my choice, mind.”
“Why don’t you speak with him again?” Canyo asked.
“I have tried on many occasions, and each time it ends disastrously. I fear that if I try one more time, I will lose the last thing I have of Erestor, and that is his friendship,” Lastar admitted.
“Hmm, a very precarious situation indeed. Perhaps going to Erestor is not such a good idea. His mind seems made up about Glorfindel. But what about the elf lord? Where does he stand in all of this?”
Lastar’s anger bubbled just below the surface as he spoke of Glorfindel. “He dedicates himself to the prisoner. They were lovers once, you know, many long years ago in Gondolin. Glorfindel feels he wronged him and will do anything he can to make it right, including keeping Erestor waiting like a lovesick maiden while he works day and night to heal the ruined one. I say there is no hope in it, but my opinion is not required. So day after day, Erestor holds out hope that Glorfindel will come back to him, and the mighty one lets him continue his downward spiral.”
Canyo thought a moment, and then smiled as an idea came to him. “Speaking with Erestor will be a waste of time. He is blinded by it all. What you need to do is to go to Glorfindel and convince him to speak to Erestor.”
Lastar did not like the suggestion and he shook his head. “That is my fear, that Glorfindel will speak to Erestor and give him false hope. Erestor will never be free of him then.”
“Then it is up to you to convince Glorfindel to let Erestor go.”
“What?” Lastar said, almost laughing at the preposterous idea.
“Erestor will not give up on Glorfindel unless the elf lord gives his permission. Glorfindel must be made to realize the state of being that Erestor is in. He wallows in misery. His performance is lacking. He is an elf suffering from deprivation. He is emotionally distressed, and it is all because of Glorfindel’s choice to push him aside and focus on the prisoner. There will be no end to Glorfindel’s work with Astarion. Once an elf is ruined as he is, there is no coming back. Glorfindel could spend the remainder of his time in Middle-earth tending to Astarion’s needs. It might look like he is improving, but below the surface, the curse lays dormant. It will manipulate, give false hope to the healer, and just when it seems the host is cured, it will strike, destroying all those who are involved. Now, if it were me, I’d have ridden myself of the disease long ago, but Glorfindel seems too deep in it. Erestor, however, could become a casualty of it. The way I see things, you would be saving Erestor, not interfering.”
“The problem is, Glorfindel knows of my feelings for Erestor. What’s to say he will not think I’m only doing this to win him over?” Lastar asked.
“That is why you’re doing it in the first place, isn’t it?” Canyo said cunningly. He gripped Lastar’s shoulder and smiled. “And with that said, I will take my leave of you. Good night, Lastar, and think about what we’ve discussed here.”
Lastar stayed on the path, and watched Canyo walk off towards home. Then he set his sight on Erestor’s distant window. The light still shone through the curtain. He knew the counselor was alone, awake, and drowning in sadness. “I have to try something,” he said, willing his feet to carry him home, but every fiber of his being told him to go to Glorfindel and try to convince him, as Canyo said.
Lastar never went home, though. He walked through Rivendell, stopping every now and then when his thoughts became too heavy. How would he do this? What could he say to Glorfindel that would make him change his mind about Erestor? It would be like trying to take water out of flour after it had been turned into dough. “Ai, what am I doing?” he fretted.
Night slowly gave way to day, as the sun rose over the valley. Lastar checked its placement in the sky. Glorfindel would be on his way to the cells by now, past Erestor’s office where Lastar could approach him without the counselor knowing. He wished he’d thought things out better. Lastar had no desire to come into close range with Astarion. There was something dark that clung to him, something Lastar feared might try to latch onto himself. But if he wanted to speak with Glorfindel, he would have to compose his fears.
Lastar walked along casually, nodding to elves that he recognized, saying his good morning praises and smiling, but inside his guts twisted painfully. When he reached the building that held the cells, he stopped and looked around him. The area was deserted. As far as he knew, Astarion was the only resident in this particular building, and Glorfindel was his only caretaker. Lastar entered and quietly closed the door behind him.
The room Lastar walked into was empty except for a couple of old wooden chairs and a writing table. This room was where the prisoner was stripped of his clothes and dressed in a simple robe. Any of his belongings were taken from him, and his name would go into a ledger, kept by the warden. Lastar glanced at the table and found it empty, no ledger and no warden to write in it. It was as if the elves wished to forget the ruined elf even existed and only Glorfindel knew of him. A well-kept secret, Lastar thought to himself. Out of sight, out of mind, out of danger, but far from the latter. As long as Astarion was within Rivendell, they were all in danger. Lastar didn’t know how or from what, but the threat was very real.
At the back of the main room was a corridor, in which the floor immediately sloped on a decline. The cells were partially underground. Each cell had a window situated high enough that no one could reach it, but from the outside, the window was at ground level. Without the use of candles, this allowed light in, and ventilated the cell so that fresh air could come inside.
Lastar stood at the archway that led down to the cells. He could hear voices far down the corridor, someone speaking in whispers, and another’s deep silky tone softly spoken. That one belonged to Glorfindel, Lastar realized. At least he knew for sure that the elf lord was here.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Lastar said to himself, but curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself eavesdropping on the distant conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Lastar always had a naughty habit of listening in on conversations that were none of his business. He should have been a spy, not a scribe, he’d thought from time to time. With that in mind, he moved down the sloping corridor a little ways, until he could make out clearly what was being said. Then he stood still as a stone pillar and listened.
* * *
Glorfindel prepared for another day of battle to save Astarion’s soul. They’d been making good progress lately. Astarion was beginning to recall his youth, of a time when he and Glorfindel first met. He was able to hold onto the memories longer and longer each time, before the darkness blocked it out. When he first started working with Astarion, the black memories were deeply embedded in his friend’s consciousness, making reality difficult to distinguish. Astarion never knew what was real or implanted memory. The Mist, as he referred to it, controlled him every moment, only allowing certain bits of information to get through, and only what it wanted him to know or remember. Glorfindel had worked hard to make Astarion fight back against the Mist. Whenever it tried to intercept a memory and insert its own agenda, Glorfindel gave Astarion the courage and the strength to fight back, and allow himself the ability to hold on to what was real. It was very tiring, exhausting work, but it all rested in Glorfindel’s hands.
“Let’s try again,” Glorfindel said to Astarion. “What do you remember of family in Gondolin? Think back to a fond memory.”
Astarion closed his eyes and concentrated. “I see my father. He is smiling at me, congratulating me. I think he has just learned that I was accepted into the House of the Golden Flower. This was my regiment, and I served under my Lord Captain Glorfindel.” Astarion paused and opened his eyes. He looked up at Glorfindel and smiled. “That’s right, you were my captain. Father was always so fond of you, and he was overjoyed to know we would be together in the same House.”
“Do you remember why?” Glorfindel asked.
“We were lifelong friends, of course.”
“What else do you remember about that time?”
Astarion closed his eyes again, tilting his head up so that the filtered light from the window illuminated his sallow skin. “There was something else, something important. It feels very significant … a promise I made … something needed to be done because I had entered into the guard. I … I’m trying to remember, but . . .” As hard as he thought, the memory was blocked at the moment.
Glorfindel remembered,though. Before Astarion officially joined the guard, he had proposed to an elleth named Leriniel. They were to court for a year, while he finished his training and then marry. But war broke out before they could join, and so they remained engaged until the time came when they could perform the proper ceremony.
“Can you remember a name or anything leading to this promise you speak of?” Glorfindel asked.
Astarion thought determinedly, but he shook his head in discouragement. “Nothing, it is blocked, but by what I do not know. It is not the Mist this time. It is something else.”
“Could it be … me?” Glorfindel said carefully.
Astarion opened his eyes and gazed at Glorfindel. “Why would it be you? Is this a clue to some insight?”
“It could be, but you must remember on your own. I cannot tell you more.”
“You were my captain. Perhaps your orders kept me from fulfilling this promise.” He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read Glorfindel’s face. “No, I do not think that is it, but I definitely feel that you had something to do with it.”
Glorfindel knew he was reaching dangerous territory in Astarion’s mind. Besides the war, Fin never actually knew why Astarion did not finalize his marriage. He’d always said he wouldn’t put Leriniel’s soul in danger of fading, should something happen to him, and that made perfect sense.
“Wait,” Astarion called. “I remember something, an elleth. Did I promise her something?”
“You did.”
“We exchanged something … rings … my wife?” Astarion asked.
“Your betrothed. You never married due to the war,” Glorfindel said, filling in the lost information.
“Why?” Astarion asked, thoroughly confused.
“I do not know, actually. I was hoping you would remember and tell me, for I’ve always been curious to learn why myself.”
“I loved her, I think. It seems like a familiar emotion.”
Glorfindel sighed. “Yes, there was love involved.”
Astarion looked at him curiously. “You do not sound so sure of this.”
Glorfindel quickly composed his personal feelings and feigned a smile to disguise any misconceptions. “You loved Leriniel or you would not have proposed to her. Marriage is eternal.”
“Yet, I cannot help but feel that I questioned this. Did I love her or was there someone else?” Astarion stood from the stool where he sat and walked in a circle around Glorfindel, seated on the opposite stool. “I did love someone, but I think it was not Leriniel, not completely anyways. Something blocks my memory, though.”
Feeling nervous, Glorfindel thought it was best to move on to something else for a while. “So tell me, what do you remember of your father and mother?”
Astarion had stopped somewhere out of Glorfindel’s sight, but the elf lord felt his eyes upon him. “I want to know more about these feelings. Tell me, Glorfindel, you say we were childhood friends … that we grew up together, and our families knew one another. We were close, then, but how close? Were we like brothers?”
“I would say we were,” Glorfindel answered.
“Did we share things?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean. We shared playthings when we were young. We shared likes and dislikes. We entered into training the same year and kept up with each other’s accomplishments, challenging each other constantly.”
“Did we share ellith?” Astarion asked intentionally.
“Absolutely not,” Glorfindel demanded.
“Not even Leriniel?”
“Never!” Fin said angered. “This is enough. We should move on to other subjects.”
“Did we share each other?” Astarion said, ignoring Glorfindel.
The elf lord remained silent. Throughout Astarion’s healing process, he’d lost many memories, one of them being the outcome of their time within the secret tunnels. It had been the Mist that kept those memories alive, but it had also injected its own version into the real situation, making Astarion think that Glorfindel had used him, and then left him to the approaching orcs. He had faded in and out of reality and the Mist’s particular account, confusing love for vengeance, sacrifice for abandonment. Glorfindel feared that touching on this subject too soon might give the Mist the upper hand, and that was the last thing Fin wanted.
“I should be the one asking questions, not you,” Glorfindel said firmly.
“Then why do you not ask the one that weighs heavily upon your mind?”
Glorfindel knew he was no longer speaking with Astarion alone. The Mist, as his friend referred to it, had taken control of his mind. It seemed to happen any time they got too close to the day Astarion disappeared.
“I will speak with Astarion and no one else. Our session here is through for now,” Glorfindel said. He started to get up from his seat, but found a pair of hands upon his shoulders holding him firmly.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to bring up difficult feelings,” Astarion said, sounding more like himself. “Please, let us get back to family and friends. I have not thought of them in many long ages, and I’ve discovered it’s soothing to remember.”
Glorfindel watched as Astarion came around in front of him. Their eyes fastened on each other, but neither one spoke for a moment. It was Astarion who broke the quietness. “I hate that we cannot discuss this.”
Glorfindel saw Astarion’s eyes turn from colorless to blue, a true sign that the Mist had left, for now. “It used your memories to control you for such a long time that it refuses to give up.”
“It used my memories of you, I think you mean.”
“So you do remember?” Glorfindel asked hopeful.
“What I remember is infused with what the Mist placed in my mind, and I cannot separate the two without its knowledge.”
There came the sound of someone walking down the corridor, and both Glorfindel and Astarion became startled. Glorfindel removed himself from the cell, and hurried down the hall to see who it was.
“Lastar,” he said surprised.
“Hello Glorfindel,” Lastar said smoothly.
“Why are you here?”
“Curiosity I guess,” Lastar smiled mischievously.
“There are no visitors of any kind. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave immediately,” Glorfindel spoke sternly.
“Actually, I was looking for you. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About … Erestor.”
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